


You Tell Me, Doctor

by Peropero



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, He isn't too friendly, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Old Soldiers, Reaper has issues, Reaper is Overwatch's new prisoner, Redemption, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peropero/pseuds/Peropero
Summary: When Overwatch fell, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler had thought that there was no going back. Jack Morrison was gone, as was Gabriel Reyes. She thought that nothing could ever be the same again. And then there was the Recall.Where Mercy finds Talon's most feared killer sprawled out in front of the Gibraltar base, Soldier: 76 finally comes face to face with his old friend, and Reaper is in extreme pain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Overwatch made me do this, I swear.

**_How long should I endure this?_ **

His consciousness slipped in and out of the tar-black darkness. Blackened flames licked at his limbs, burning his senses to the point of pure agony. Curse words and painful screams rip their way out of his throat. His body is disintegrating, rotting from the inside out, and then reconstructing itself from the cells- every hour, every minute, every second. No human should have been subject to this kind of torture. Falling to the deepest pits of hell would have been preferable.

The torment, the endless torment... he hated every moment of it- hated it with his soul. Why couldn't he have just died? He would writhe and scream in burning fury, before his body completely fell apart into wisps of dark smoke.

The very second he made the choice to phase into his ghostly form, the pain dissipated. Every senses were numbed, silenced as if drugged with massive amounts of morphine; he couldn't feel nor touch anything. Everything lost its meaning, the world spun away... and he couldn't... he couldn't _feel_ himself... it was as if his own body was lost to him. He was gone. _He was nothing._

And that was, after some time, even more difficult to bear than his constant, agonizing pain. He silently wondered if this was what Lena Oxton have felt during her exile from the temporal plane- before Winston saved her. But there was no saving for _him_ , Gabriel Reyes.

 ** _Dead man walking,_** he thought with a scoff. He would die a thousand times over to escape this viscious cycle. But that chance was lost to him a long time ago. That day in Switzerland, a certain Doctor Ziegler had dragged him away from death. _She_ had condemned him to... this.

Jack Morrison.

Angela Ziegler.

He would see those two perish before his mangled body did. He would.

After Switzerland, Gabriel Reyes was rebranded into the Reaper. The Reaper's body was unstable, undying; he was either drifting as a ghostly smoke or suffering from burning pain. On bad days, he would go mad in terror and rip his own limbs from his body. But that never killed him. He couldn't even be injured for good. Even if he turned the shotgun to himself and blew a hole in his forehead, his body would slowly, painfully knit itself together.

Talon gave him pills. They didn't stop his body from disintegrating. But it dulled the pain, and the artificial blankness it provided helped him regain control over his... 'condition'. He could bear the dull, pulsing pain enough to pursue his targets. He could even phase into the dark mass of smoke at his own will. That was enough for him. Talon also told him that it was all they could do for him, and he agreed.

Of course he didn't trust them. He didn't even believe their words. He trusted no one nowadays, not after Switzerland. **~~Not after Jack~~**. Even if they did know how to save Gabriel Reyes from the Reaper, there was no reason they should do so. Pain and fury made Reaper strong, unrelenting. The black flames drove him. Which was exactly what Talon wanted. The dog that fought the fiercest was a hungry, injured dog.

But Reaper couldn't reveal his claws to the Talon. Not now. That would be an idiotic move, even for him. He had a mission to pursue. He would hunt down former Overwatch agents and make them pay for his pain.

_**~~You let me die, Jack Morrison.~~ ** _

~~_**You made me suffer.** _ ~~

It was a vendetta. Death was coming for Overwatch. Reaper glared at his pair of shotguns, gripping it tight. His face twisted into a grimace under the mask.

* * *

 

"You didn't kill him?"

" _Tried._ Well, not me, Winston thought we should, but anyway... the cool cowboy stopped us."

Lucio shrugged, gliding forward on his rollerskates. Music gently pulsed in the background. He glanced sideways at the older man. Soldier: 76 was jogging down the hallway right next to him, his face hidden under the visor as per usual. Lucio wondered what kind of expression he was wearing right now. If the hands gripping the rifle indicated anything, well, he could guess that the Soldier wasn't in a particularly good mood. He continued.

"Huh, It wasn't like he would die anyway. Plus his body was really weird. I mean, _really_ really out of sorts. It was like a hailstorm of black smoke. You should have seen it! We couldn't even get near, just managed to push him into a safe place--"

Soldier: 76 spoke no more. Lucio closed his mouth, too. The musician and the soldier proceeded down the hallway in rapt silence. Then they stopped in front of the jail cell- the only one in Watchpoint Gibraltar. A groan dragged itself out from the cells. Then a terrible, bloodcurdling scream shattered the air. Lucio winced, feeling his hair stand on end. The Soldier, on the other hand, stepped forward.

The place was plunged in darkness, but his visor helped his eyes readjust itself to the darkness. He could see beyond the bars without difficulty soon enough. In the furthest corner of the cell was a man, sprawled out on the ground. He was twitching and writhing like a dying beast. He took one step further. The sight he beheld was beyond speaking.

The body was a rippling mass of black smoke. Black clothes, white mask. He had seen them before. The man on the floor was none other than Talon's most feared killer- the Reaper. Another agonizing cry broke through the silence sent a chill down his spine. Jack involuntarily bit into his lower lip. He could sense the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. His hand slowly tightened into a fist.

 _How come?_  He asked silently. _God, why are you_ _here? What's your intention, Gabriel?_

_What happened to you?_

Pain brewed within him- grief, that couldn't be contained in mere words. A cobweb of emotions clung to his throat like a chunk of blood. He turned his back towards the ghost and spoke towards Lucio.

"Call Ziegler," he said.

* * *

All it took was one moment of hesitation.

Jack, Jack Morrison. Every time pain pulsed within his veins, he thought of that name. The ghostly vigilante 'Soldier: 76' was Jack Morrison. He just knew it. A single explosion was never enough to kill Morrison. He was too strong for that. (Maybe he just _wished_ that Jack was alive.)

-Yes, you aren't dead.

"I'm going to kill you."

-I can kill you.

"I'll put a bullet through your head."

-Without hesitation. Without mercy. Because it is what you deserve for betraying me.

"Jack."

He _needs_ to do so one day.

"Jack."

Because his blood is on Jack's hands, he repeatedly muttered to himself. Because Morrison was the reason for his suffering. Whatever their past was like, it mattered no more. Not after Switzerland. At least, that's what Reaper had thought.

But when he unexpectedly came face-to-face with Jack, he only managed to point his gun at the man's forehead. The hesitation, the fucking hesitation was still there. He didn't pull the trigger. Instead his eyes searched Jack's face thoroughly; it had changed- the white hair, the long scar, the visor that covered his face- but the strong jawline, one he remembered so well, was still there. He had an urge to rip off the visor and examine the face of his archnemesis more closely. He wanted to scream, 'Don't hide behind that fucking visor, _look at me_. Look what you have done to me!'

The interference of another ghost, a certain Ana Amari, was just a fine excuse for him to get away from the place. He thought that it would be enough.

Apparently, it wasn't enough for Talon.

The organization had demanded him to be cruel and unwavering. He had failed their contract. We need to teach you a lesson, they said. You need to be reminded who is holding the end of your leash, _dog._

They took the pills and the guns away from him. They locked him up. He felt terror- despair, one he hadn't felt in years, grip his heart. He snarled and screamed at the guards to let him out. He threatened that he would kill them, rip the limbs from their body. They just laughed. Without his freedom, without his weapons, they had no reason to fear him. He hollered out in fury and rammed his rotten fist against the steel wall.

And then pain engulfed him. The disintegration had begun.

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Pain, darkness, drifting, and pain again. His body fell apart into a pulsing mass of smoke. Spasms. Torn screams rattling against his ears. His own, screams. If he could die of shock, his heart would have stopped several times over. His gray skin was thorouly drenched in cold sweat.

Later, he couldn't even remember how he escaped the cage. _Someone, anyone, save me. **(There's no one, they have all deserted you, remember?)** Save me from this living hell. **(There's no going back for you.)** _

__Kill me..._ he thought, his consciousness dim and dull._

 _

_Jack, please._

As smoke, he writhed and thrashed. Perhaps he crossed the sea and the darkness like that. Like a dying dog, to his only home. When he opened his eyes, still caught up in the hazy mist of pain, he found that he had returned a painfully familar place-

The Watchpoint Gibraltar.

_


End file.
